


tell the world that we finally got it all right

by Miyukitty



Series: SASOikawa 2017 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Literal Sleeping Together, Living Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nerdiness, POV Alternating, Prompt Fic, SASO 2017, Sappy Ending, Star Wars References, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: Hajime knew it would be an adjustment to officially move in with Tooru, but he also knew what he was getting into.





	tell the world that we finally got it all right

**Author's Note:**

> Written for six sappy prompts in no particular order: _"baking together", "caught in the rain", "morning cuddles", "we try staying up late but we both are lightweights", "we make a really good team", "you don't have to say i love you to say i love you"._ Combined into one very self-indulgent fluff fic for a certain captain's birthday. (๑ゝڡ◕๑) 
> 
> ........I've written a few fics heavy on my headcanons about iwaoi sharing an apartment and being huge nerds over pokemon go, star wars, and star trek, and yes you can probably assume they're all the same timeline i'm not original haha ;;;;

 

Hajime knew it would be an adjustment to officially move in with Tooru, but he also knew what he was getting into. They'd been together practically their whole lives, and when were they not sleeping over at each others' houses or crashing on each others' couches? Hajime knew every inch of Tooru; knew how to handle his mood swings and his sleepless nights, knew the way his feet always got cold when he slept so he needed extra blankets, that he needed a solid hour in the bathroom every morning to blow dry and style his hair and if he was running late he would sulk about it for the rest of the day, that he'd rather eat junk food from a convenience store than take the time to cook for himself but he'd eat healthy if someone made it for him, that he needed to be reminded to rest sometimes but he was getting better about it, and more.

 

There was no one in this world who knew Oikawa Tooru better than Iwaizumi Hajime.

 

The key to their first place together rested heavy and warm in his palm. Hajime couldn't stop staring at it. Tooru had insisted on adding little volleyball keychains to them both right away, so they matched. Issei and Takahiro helped them move all the boxes in, and the four of them sat on the floor that first night with pizza and beers reminiscing for hours about Seijou.

 

The first week was a whirlwind of kisses and unpacking. Tooru took over all the decorating after a while, claiming he had an eye for aesthetic (and what would his Iwa-chan know about beauty, besides his beloved's face, obviously). Ever the captain, Tooru made a chart with color coded squares organizing what needed to be done as if chores were a training menu. (There was some of that, too – jogging, weight training, a daily workout listed along with all the regular things like washing dishes and taking out the recycling.) Tooru had a roll of sparkly emoji stickers to mark off each accomplishment.

 

Hajime found it more satisfying to scribble over the completed tasks with black marker. Although every time he glanced at the chart afterward, his unsightly scribbles were carefully covered up by stickers with judgmental faces glaring at him. It made him smile, so he kept doing it just to bug Tooru.

 

Where Tooru could be flighty and spontaneous, rearranging the furniture or springing surprise plans on him, Hajime was a creature of habit. It made him happy to cook most nights. He'd learned how from his grandparents, and even when he was younger, found cooking to be calming and methodical. It was a way to unwind after a long day, even on the shoestring budget they were starting out with. He learned quickly that it was better if he was the one picking up groceries, too: Tooru was an impulse shopper with a sweet tooth who always came home with takeout after work, or more snacks and sugary drinks than were on the list.

 

Hajime blamed his stupid high school fan club that used to ply him with homemade cookies and chocolates; they'd spoiled him, and now he whined any time Hajime tried to make him cut back for the sake of their bills.

 

Their first big fight was about a stupid potted plant. When they were younger, they solved arguments with a punch to the arm and a quick scuffle, but it was different, now. Hajime forgot to water it while Tooru was in Miyagi for the weekend, despite the overly cheerful and demanding list of instructions left for him in his absence. He would have just apologized if Tooru had been understanding, but instead he'd been a petty brat and accused him of killing the plant on purpose, and they were both too pigheaded to let it go for the rest of the week. He noticed the emoji stickers on the chart had been aggressively replaced with little flower and plant ones, some with little frowning faces drawn on in pen.

 

He almost longed for the days he could chuck a volleyball at Tooru's head to make him stop acting so childish. Tooru even stopped speaking to him, which Hajime claimed he didn't mind, but honestly it wore him down more than he'd expected it to. The bickering was more comfortable than the silence.

 

The stalemate finally broke one morning when Hajime admitted over coffee that he hadn't slept well that weekend without Tooru there, and maybe he'd let a few things slide because he missed him. Tooru hugged him, then, and whispered that he'd been so stressed the while time he was away that he blew up over the slightest provocation. Just like that, the tension between them dissipated as though it had never existed in the first place. It was hardly their last fight, but they would learn to be better at using their words (eventually).

 

Issei and Takahiro had jokingly called them an old married couple, but Hajime couldn't keep the amused smile off his face every time he heard it. He and Tooru _were_ pretty good together. He wouldn't mind growing old together.

 

* * *

 

Their bedroom was always cold in the winter, no matter how they insulated the drafty window with spare towels, or set up the little space heater near the mattress in a futile attempt to stave off hypothermia. They had to be sparing with the electric bill. To combat the season, their bed was piled high with a veritable nest of every blanket and pillow in the apartment.

 

Tooru and Hajime were burrowed deep under it all, comforter bundled over their faces to block out the morning light filtering pale through the window. It was warm under here, Tooru mused, so long as neither of them ever moved again. He could probably turn off Hajime's work alarm without waking him. It was for the greater good.

 

Hajime's stubble was rough against his neck. He was open mouthed snoring somewhere near Tooru's ear, so that his soft breathing tickled with every exhalation. Tooru wriggled slightly in adjustment, Hajime's arm heavy around his waist, his comforting warmth pressed against his back. Tooru's feet were perpetually cold, and despite his protests, Hajime was good at warming them up.

 

This time of year he was extra appreciative how Hajime always seemed to radiate body heat. (He complained endlessly during the summer, of course, but right now it was his favorite thing about his Iwa-chan.)

 

Carefully Tooru maneuvered an arm outside of the blankets. The cold air hit his skin and sent a frisson of goosebumps up to his elbow. He hissed under his breath and quickly groped at the nightstand. When his fumbling fingers found the shape of a phone, he snatched it back into the safety of the blanket nest. Hajime mumbled something in his sleep, but did not stir.

 

Tooru grinned in the blue light of the screen when he saw he'd grabbed the right one. Silly Iwa-chan hadn't changed his PIN in years. (0, 4, 0, 1, the sap.) Merrily Tooru set about deleting the alarm, changing the names in his contact list ('his royal highness' quickly replaced with 'precious love of my life'), and snapping a few selfies with Hajime drooling on his shoulder for a new wallpaper.

 

He was about to post one of the pics online and maybe creatively rename some of Hajime's Pokemon Go team, when Hajime nuzzled into his neck.

 

"G'morning," Hajime mumbled against his skin.

 

"Morning," Tooru whispered, threading his fingers through Hajime's tousled hair.

 

The phone lay forgotten on the pillow as soon as Hajime nosed behind his ear. The warm kisses on the soft patch of skin there made Tooru squirm, oversensitive and still half asleep. A little mewling noise escaped his lips, and he pressed his back in closer to Hajime's chest.

 

"You're affectionate today," Tooru remarked a little breathlessly, cheeks pink.

 

"Mm," Hajime grunted.

 

His hand eased under Tooru's loose shirt, heated against his skin. Teeth nipped lightly at the curve of his ear, stubble scraping against his neck. Tooru's legs shifted restlessly under the covers, tangling with Hajime's.

 

"I, Iwa-chan, so forward," Tooru whined, burrowing his face into the pillow. It didn't take much to get him going in the morning, and Hajime knew it.

 

"You wanna stay in bed today?" Hajime asked, rubbing loose circles against Tooru's stomach the way he liked it.

 

Tooru hummed happily.

 

"What was that?" Hajime murmured with teasing patience. "I couldn't hear you, Tooru."

 

"Please," Tooru purred, wriggling his hips enticingly against Hajime. "I want you to stay in bed with me."

 

"Then," Hajime dropped his voice into a low rumble, right by his ear, as he melted into the pillow. "-You shouldn't have messed with my phone, Shittykawa."

 

The covers were yanked back. All the cold came flooding in at once, making Tooru screech.

 

"Too cruel, Iwa-chan!!"

 

* * *

 

Hajime glanced up from his laptop at a flash of light against the window.

 

He waited for the low rumble of thunder in the distance as the first drops of rain pattered against the glass. Spring thunderstorms rolled in fast and hard; beyond the clouds going dark and the scent on the breeze, there was little warning to be had. There was a flash flood warning in effect all week. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched sheets of drizzle come down outside.

 

Tooru wasn't home yet.

 

He rose from the couch with a groan. His legs had fallen asleep under his laptop. How long had he been sitting? It was easy to lose track of time when the apartment was empty. Everything was silent.

 

Not that he would complain about some peace and quiet without Tooru constantly having the television on or loudly reading volleyball articles on his phone or distracting him in any way he knew how, but. It was almost too quiet, save for the steady drumming of rain against the roof.

 

Hajime wandered back from the closet with an armful of blankets and a clean hoodie, which he left on the arm of the couch. He set the kettle on the stove and arranged their matching Kirk and Spock mugs with teabags – herbal, so caffeine wouldn't keep Tooru up all night, but with sugar cubes, so he wouldn't complain about the bitterness. They didn't have any groceries for dinner and Hajime had no desire to venture out into the rain for them, so he figured they'd order delivery when Tooru got home.

 

Content, Hajime settled back on the couch and opened his laptop again. The rhythm of the rain lulled him into drowsiness, and soon he found himself nodding off.

 

Hajime started awake at the door bursting open. The tea kettle was whistling on the stove, but he'd slept right through it.

 

"Iwa-chan," Tooru cried forlornly. His hair was sopping wet, bangs plastered flat against his face. He hated getting wet, especially if it ruined his hair. With that sulky expression, Tooru looked like some gigantic wet cat.

 

Hajime snorted.

 

"Don't laugh at meee," Tooru wailed, slamming the door shut and dropping his bags to the floor. He kicked off his shoes with more force than was necessary, sulking as Hajime rose from the sofa. "The bus was late and it started raining while I was standing there, and if you tease me, you don't get any ramen."

 

"You got ramen?" Hajime said with surprise. He helped Tooru out of his drenched jacket and pushed the sweatshirt into his grateful hands.

 

"Of course Iwa-chan only cares about food," Tooru sniffed. He pulled the hood over his wet hair and crinkled his nose. "That ramen shop near the bus stop is the one you like, right? I thought I'd bring some home, but I didn't know it was going to rain."

 

He was pale and shivering from the cold. Hajime rubbed his shoulders, and Tooru leaned against him with a sigh. Hajime steered him to the couch, where he proceeded to clamber into the warm indent in the cushion left by Hajime. Hajime chuckled as Tooru wrapped himself in the blankets, and ambled over to pick up the bags left on the floor.

 

Sure enough, steam was rising from the takeout containers. His stomach rumbled.

 

"I'll grab bowls and make you some tea to warm you up. Put something on TV," Hajime called over his shoulder. "You're not allowed to catch a cold, okay?"

 

"You like taking care of me when I'm sick because you get to boss me around," Tooru grinned.

 

"Don't be an idiot," Hajime deflected.

 

Tooru grabbed the remote while Hajime poured the broth into bowls and began dividing the noodles and toppings. He paused, eying an extra container. It didn't look like dessert.

 

"What's in this one?" he asked.

 

Tooru didn't glance up from the screen where he was scrolling through their movie queue.

 

"They had agedashi tofu," he replied with a small smile.  

 

Something warm and fond settled in Hajime's chest. His favorite.

 

The smile played on his lips as Hajime set their dinner down on the coffee table, and flopped beside Tooru on the couch. He leaned over and ruffled Tooru's hair through the hood, making him yelp in protest.

 

Tooru flung the blanket over Hajime and curled up into his lap, cuddling up for body heat like the gigantic wet cat he was.

 

"Welcome home, Tooru," Hajime murmured, and pressed a kiss to his cold forehead.

 

* * *

 

The apartment was unnaturally quiet at this hour. The warm summer air was still, heavy, muffling his furtive movements. The shapes of the hallway furniture he knew by heart were cast unfamiliar in shadow.

 

Tooru was clad in just his boxers and one of Hajime's old marathon participation shirts with the sleeves cut off as he tiptoed into the kitchen. The LED display above the oven cast a red glow in the dimly lit room. 2:29 AM, it blinked accusingly.

 

Tooru scrunched his nose at it.

 

"Don't judge me," he whispered as it rolled over to 2:30.

 

Tooru crouched and eased the fridge door open without a sound, blinking at the sudden light flooding the dark room. Dark eyes skated past takeout leftovers, half-empty bottles of condiments, a single onion, a handful of eggs, and the tiny dribble at the bottom of the milk carton because he didn't want to finish it off. They needed groceries anyway. He was out of milk bread.

 

He rummaged in the fridge drawer with his pink tongue peeking out between his lips until he pulled out the snack he was looking for: a tube of premade cookie dough.

 

"All mine," he cheered in a whisper.

 

Tooru hopped onto the counter without turning the light on, and let the fridge swing shut on its own. His bare legs kicked lazily in the air as he dug his fingers into the raw vanilla dough. He happily licked the sticky dough off his fingers, and crunched pleasantly on the chocolate chips.

 

This was much better than staring at the ceiling for hours in the humid air with his sheets fusing to his sweaty skin. If only he had some milk to go with his treat. Or some ice cream. They really needed groceries. It was too hot to walk already, and summer had barely begun.

 

He heard the trudge of heavy footsteps in the hallway before he could make out the bulky silhouette approaching from the bedroom.

 

Tooru didn't bother to hop down from the counter, and leaned his head back against the cabinet. He'd been caught already.

 

"Crappykawa," Hajime mumbled in reproach, still half asleep. He was squinting through heavy eyelids, and barely stifling the yawn in his voice. "What are you doing."

 

Tooru flashed him a guilty grin. "Couldn't sleep," he chirped, as if that weren't obvious.

 

"You'll be up all night if you're stuffing your face with sugar, dumbass," Hajime grumbled.

 

"Just go back to bed, Iwa-chan," Tooru said fondly. "You need your beauty sleep."

 

 _I'll be up all night anyway,_ he thought to himself, and wondered if Hajime was thinking the same thing. A twinge of guilt for keeping Hajime up with him tugged in his chest.

 

He reached out and ruffled Hajime's already messy hair. Hajime batted his sticky hands away, though his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. It was too easy to tease a sleepy Iwa-chan.

 

Tooru pinched off a piece of cookie dough and pressed it to Hajime's closed lips.

 

"Mmmph, s'better when it's cooked. You'll get salmonella," Hajime complained, though Tooru stuck his fingers in as soon as Hajime's mouth opened to speak. Obligingly he took the cookie dough, tongue dragging warm against Tooru's fingers, before he pulled them out.

 

Tooru beamed as Hajime slowly chewed and swallowed.

 

"Isn't it good when it's uncooked, though?" Tooru set the raw dough beside him and reached out again, this time to pull Hajime to him against the counter.

 

Hajime was too tired to protest, and instead nestled his head in the crook of Tooru's shoulder. Tooru wrapped his ridiculously long legs around Hajime's waist to trap him with a pleased little hum.

 

"Let's just cuddle in bed," Hajime suggested drowsily. "I'm gonna fall asleep on you out here."

 

"You're such an old man," Tooru announced. "I have a better idea. Preheat the oven, Iwa-chan."

 

"I don't want to bake at two in the morning, you lunatic, it's hot enough in here," Hajime groaned into the worn design of the shirt Tooru had appropriated from their laundry heap. His hands found fistfuls of fabric, but he lacked the energy to pull, so he just held on in protest.

 

"But this is the only way we'll settle this. We'll split the dough in half and cook only one batch, and then we can compare which way tastes better," Tooru explained slowly, so that he would understand even in his sleepy state. He wrapped his hands around Hajime's fists and gently prised them loose. He laced their fingers together and clasped tightly, a soft smile gracing his countenance. "When the sun comes up you can run out and buy us milk. Won't that be nice?"

 

Hajime mumbled what sounded suspiciously like a string of curse words into his shoulder. Tooru squeezed his legs around Hajime's midsection, teasing a gasp out of him.

 

When Tooru leaned in to kiss him, Hajime's lips tasted of vanilla sugar and salty sweat and summer heat and home.

 

* * *

 

Popcorn was strewn all over the quilt they were snuggled underneath. Familiar fanfare swelled in the background, but with the volume dialed low. Tooru was half in Hajime's lap, head on his chest, his messy hair tickling the inside of his nose and threatening to make him sneeze. He dozed off half a movie ago, and Hajime's eyes were getting heavier as the night dragged on.

 

They hadn't been able to finish a Star Wars marathon the last two times they tried, because Tooru insisted on watching them all in release order because he "wasn't a quitter" (really, Hajime just wanted to rewatch Rogue One but there was no chance in hell they'd ever get to it tonight). They'd split a bottle of sake between them, because Tooru preferred wine while Hajime preferred beer but it was just easier to make Tooru happy this way without buying both.

 

The flush of pink in his cheeks, the bright shine to his eyes, the animated way he explained light saber physics and alien biology – Hajime loved to watch Tooru on nights like this, when he was enthusiastic and nerdy and more than a little tipsy. He was perfect.

 

But as usual, Tooru was a total lightweight and was already passed out. He didn't care about Tooru drooling on this shirt, at least. He wore the same tattered old Chewbacca tee Tooru had given him all those years ago, the first time they'd ever watched Star Wars together, only the design was faded now and the sleeves were too tight around his arms but Tooru adamantly refused to let him cut the sleeves off this one because it was a collector's piece and "that would be indecent exposure". It wouldn't be the first time Tooru fell asleep on him while he was wearing Chewie. He doubted it would be the last, either.

 

Hajime sighed and slumped back into the welcoming contour of the sofa. The pleasant buzz of sake was fading, leaving him drowsy and brimming with sappy affection.

 

Tooru's elbow was jammed up in Hajime's gut, and that knee was uncomfortably close to his crotch for someone who thrashed in his sleep. His limbs were much too long to always be climbing in his lap, not that it ever stopped him. It was like he didn't know his own size, even now. And when did he get so tall, anyway? Hajime used to wish for those last few centimeters, but he supposed one of the two of them should be able to fit comfortably in cars and train seats.

 

Tooru made a small whimpering noise in his sleep. Automatically Hajime's hand rose to stroke his hair. Tooru's shoulders went slack, and he curled in closer to Hajime's steady heartbeat. Hajime wrapped the quilt more snugly around his shoulders, so he wouldn't get cold.

 

Hajime played with Tooru's hair as he dozed on, unaware. It always smelled so nice.

 

He'd once read some of the bottles of hair product in their bathroom just to figure out what it was that smelled so damn good – some combination of vanilla mint tea shampoo and coconut oil for styling? It got on his fingers sometimes, and he was guilty of running his hands through his own hair, hoping he could smell it throughout the day. He didn't even use gel to spike his hair, let alone any of the fancy conditioners Tooru splurged on. They made his hair so impossibly soft, though.

 

As the credits rolled, Hajime's head was slumped forward, nestled neatly atop the crown of Tooru's head. Neither of them made it past the second movie. They would have to try again later. 

 

* * *

 

Tooru could only stare.

 

"It's okay if you want time to think about it. I know we've never really talked about it before," Hajime said, his voice uncharacteristically rough.

 

His large hands trembled, just a little, and Tooru reached out to brush against his knuckles in encouragement. He looked as nervous as Tooru had ever seen him.

 

"Well," Hajime corrected himself, and Tooru huffed a little laugh, realizing at the same instant the night he was thinking of. He remembered the band-aids on his skinned knees, the scent of freshly mowed grass, the glow of fireflies in the jar that Hajime pressed into his hands. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to keep his composure.

 

The television was on in the background, though he could no longer hear the movie playing. He was sitting on their old secondhand couch in just his boxers and a sweatshirt, knees jiggling nervously. His heart was pounding.

 

"That doesn't really count," Tooru whispered. His voice came out high and thin to his ears. Disbelief. Shock. "We were little kids."

 

Hajime knelt on the living room carpet in front of him with a little mint-green box in his palm. Something in between a laugh and a sob got caught in his chest as Hajime opened the box, and he caught sight of a silver band. This was real. He could barely breathe. 

 

"When we were kids, you made me promise I would marry you someday," Hajime said softly. His hazel-green eyes were warm as he gazed up at Tooru. He was gaining confidence as he went on, as though he'd practiced these lines many times. "You wouldn't take no for an answer," Hajime added wryly, earning another startled laugh from Tooru.

 

"But ever since then," Hajime continued, "I haven't ever pictured a future without you."

 

Tooru was blinking too quickly, damp eyelashes sticking together. There was already a lifetime of history between them. Selfishly, greedily, he wanted lifetimes more.

 

He could stare into Hajime's earnest eyes and be transported to every memory they shared, growing up in the same country neighborhood with matching yards. A shared childhood shaped by birthday parties, festivals, camping, reading manga, stargazing, playing video games, catching bugs, school projects, watching television, fighting, and always making up the very next day. Sleeping over with Hajime more often than he slept in his own bed, bringing over his nightlight, and being scared of waking up alone so Hajime promised to stay with him if he woke first.

 

He was reminded of the rush of getting his first volleyball for his birthday and rushing over to the Iwaizumi household so that they could be the first to play with it together. That unforgettable day Takeru was born and he became an uncle, and Hajime was invited to the hospital with the Oikawas because he was part of their family too. He remembered his middle school slumber party, casually admitting he had crushes on girls and boys, and the secret swoop in his stomach he felt when Hajime confessed he liked boys better. 

 

The pride and frustration of their tumultuous high school volleyball career would always be a part of them, the scars carved on their hearts – every point scored, every tear shed, every long practice, every bloody nose, every game won or lost on his tosses and Hajime's spikes and the perfect trust between them. The night Tooru collapsed, and Hajime found him in the gym and carried him to the hospital. His knee surgery, his recovery, and the first time Hajime ever kissed him. Tooru almost confessed, but got too scared and laughed it off instead, and was haunted by the look in Hajime's eyes like maybe he knew already but he'd never bring it up again. 

 

Tooru remembered navigating the tangled mess of their teenage feelings and how tenuous it all felt, like pulling on the wrong thread would unravel everything they'd built together. There was the first time they got drunk together on beer they got from Tooru's sister and stayed up all night watching a movie marathon. He remembered all too well convincing himself he'd rather have Hajime as his best friend than nothing at all, so he didn't say what he wanted to and maybe he missed his chance, anyway. Bittersweet graduation from Seijou, and the heartache of moving out of their hometown and away from each other. University and parties and casual flings and separation anxiety and long distance and bad habits and finally, finally, admitting to themselves what the rest of the world had seen from the beginning.

 

Falling in love with each other, over and over and over.

 

And somehow they had gotten here. He didn't realize the tears were spilling over his cheeks until Hajime clucked his tongue in disapproval. He reached up to swipe them away, but Tooru caught his hand and cradled it close to his face. He knew he was an ugly crier, too, that he was an absolute mess right now and it was all Hajime's fault for doing this to him.

 

It didn't feel tenuous anymore. It felt solid and real and forever. He couldn't even find the words to respond, but he was smiling, and Hajime was smiling, and they both knew that their future together would be a bright one.

 

"Dumbass," Hajime said fondly.

 

"Well, I'm _your_ dumbass now," Tooru replied with a loud sniffle. "You promised. Now give me my ring."

**Author's Note:**

> title from the [sappiest otp song of all time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Uwj17y0et4)


End file.
